Art
by coffeecrazycats
Summary: A few chapters about Clones and Art.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fan-fiction, Please don't be harsh.**

Chapter One- Hopes and Dreams

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored!

Ahsoka ambled around the hanger, bored out of her mind. With her master off doing who knows what, Bariss on a mission and a grumpy Rex sleeping in his bunk, Ahsoka had nothing to do. Granted, she could study, or practice, or doing something Jedi-ish, but she wasn't really in the mood. So she found herself in the hanger of _The Resolute_ , staring up at silver ceiling as she lazily wandered around the abandoned ship. Well, not quite abandoned. There were the Gunships, lined neatly and orderly, their engines and weapons turned off. It felt strange to be here, like walking around in a den of sleeping predators. She half expected one of the gunships to roar with life and startle her half to death, but none of them did.

She swung up onto the hull of one, and sat down, staring down at everything below.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored!

Then she saw him...

A clone, sitting on his alabaster helmet, doing something. Ahsoka cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. _What was he doing?_ She thought, curious. Ahsoka looked closer and closer and closer. _Wait a minute... was he... painting?_

Ahsoka force leaped down and walked over to where he sat, spraying something onto the hull of a mighty gunship. Yup, he was definitely painting. She stepped closer, staring at his art, and fought the urge to gasp. It... It was beautiful. A dappled blue sky and soft emerald grass, specked with the buttery gold of far-away dandelions greeted her startled eyes. Buttermilk clouds peeked over the calm green of ripe apple trees, crimson fruit dotting the vivid leaves like drops of blood. And next to that tree...

The pearly white surface of a clone's helmet.

It was Peaceful.

Happy.

A meadow in full bloom, A place without war.

He had turned a gunship, a flying weapon, into art.

Ahsoka took in a breath, and the clone turned around, surprised. "It... It's amazing." She choked out.

His eyes softened, and he turned back to his work. "It is something, isn't it."

She nodded, realized he could not see her, and instead muttered a quiet "Yes."

But even if she had said yes louder, she doubted he could have still heard her, for the clone now was staring off into somewhere deep inside of him. "It's what life will be like when the war is over. When we wont have to fight, to kill anymore." He laughed nervously and wrung his hands, realizing that he was had spaced out. "I guess you could call it my dream, or hope. Whatever you prefer."

Ahsoka just stared in complete wonder at the scene before it, afraid that just the merest breath would disturb the carefully applied paints on the cool metal.

Taking a deep breath, CT-2865 picked up the spray can and started painting again.

Ahsoka crept away from the clone, lost in thought.

Clone CT-2865 died three rotations later, after being ambushed on the ground by General Grievous.

But his painting, his hopes and dreams, flew on till the end of the clone wars.


	2. Chapter 2

Rex shook up his can of spray paint, glancing around the abandoned bunker. Nobody was here.

Good.

This was the type of thing that a clone had to do alone.

Gingerly but precisely, Rex started to apply the crimson paint to his armor, creating long spirals of spindly, red streaks. The clone captain stepped back to admire his work. Great. Now it looked liked he was bleeding. With a sigh, he wiped the red paint off and tried again. He applied red slits under the eyes, and chin. Now it looked like he had a nose bleed. He wiped it off again, but every time he tried to use red, it always looked like he was bleeding. Rex threw down the scarlet paint can, thoroughly annoyed. It was clear by now that red wasn't his color. He looked around him at the other cans. _But what was?_

Pink-too girly.

Yellow-too happy.

Green-too naturey.

Purple-You have to be kidding.

Red-He already tried that.

Orange-That was Cody's color.

Black-too brooding.

Plain White-No. Just No.

Rex scratched the back of his head as he scanned the cans of paint. Wasn't he missing a color? He scrutinized the dark room. There. There it was. A run-away-or roll-away-paint can. Rex walked over and picked it up.

Blue. It was blue.

Rex stared at the can... then slowly smiled.

And when he walked out that bunker, head up, shoulders back, and helmet sitting on his head, a shiny nearby whispered that his armor was no longer armor, but art. Rex, with the eyes of an angry eagle, the Jaig eyes, saw this, and stood all the prouder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! Constructive Criticism and reviews are, as always, welcomed. Thank you to the people who have reviewed! It makes my day to come home and see a review.**

The red warning lights lit up her screen as a vulture droids lucky shots hit her fighter. Ahsoka grimaced and tried to swoop around to catch the droid ship unawares, but it had locked on to her, waiting for the right time to make a kill. She swerved left, then right, the shot straight down, trying to lose him. _Come on... Come on... Come on..._

She swerved again, but this time...

Too Late.

The red warning lights started blinking, and with a chord of horror she realized that she could no longer control the ship as it shot into a nearby planet's atmosphere. Her fighter spinning out of control, Ahsoka could only watch as she crashed into the rich soil of Felucia.

Then all she could see was black.

Jet Black.

Canary Yellow.

Electric Blue.

Olive Green.

Blood Red.

Tiger Orange.

Salmon Pink.

And plum Purple.

Ahsoka woke to the sight of the colors of Felucia before her, struck with all at their unblemished radiance. Besides the dappled brown, tan, and occasionally black, she didn't usually see much color at the temple. Sure the lightsabers were green, gold, and blue, but most Jedi didn't turn their lightsabers on at her home, except for sparring and teaching younglings. Before she had become a Jedi, back on Shilli, the sapphire, sienna, and seafoam shades of the plants and animals always cheered up her days. What was better than coming home to the sight of a purple bird sitting on your bed, preening it's pretty feathers? Part of the reason she herself wore pink, silver, red and multiple shades of brown, in addition to the natural blue and sienna of her skin tones, was because they were colorful, unlike the customary Jedi robes. She missed seeing something fun and full of color. It could just sometimes be so dreary. (The other reason she didn't even touch the robes was because the they were ridiculously heavy. Ugh! It was like drowning in fabric.)

But this... this was the most vibrant thing she had ever encountered. She snorted to herself. Her wardrobe didn't stand a chance.

Felucia stood proud and tall, stretched out before her like... like nothing she had ever seen before. Well, it did remind her of something: art, like the clone's painting on the gunship. Her heart gave a painful twang. She shook herself, dismissing the thought. She would not think about that tragedy, or as she had dubbed him, Painter, and his unaccomplished dream while she was seeing something this wonderful. She wanted to bathe in the pure beauty of her surroundings, not wallow in his death. Besides, although she had only knew him for a moment, she knew that he would agree with her sentiment. Ahsoka refocused on the world around her.

She blinked. Then blinked again. Wow... just Wow. Standing here was like standing in a dream. She had seen Felucia before, but never really noticed it. (Fighting a war can kinda distract her from the landscape.) The first time she was here she was a preoccupied trying to find a way off this "rock" so she and her masters could inform the republic of the destruction of the medial base, and the time after that, she was a little busy being stalked by a Trandosion hunter. This time, she actually got to enjoy peace. A bittersweet smile leapt to her lips. Like Painter wanted to.

~(o)~

Rex peered outside the gunship, scanning the ground as it whizzed. It had been 1/4 rotation since Ahsoka had crashed, and both Anakin and him had started to get nearly sick with worry. The only difference between his Jedi leader and himself was that he had a helmet to help disguise his concern. His leader, however, looked about a minute or two away from biting his nails.

"Commander." Nail, a shiny, pointed toward the smoke of a rising cloud of slate smoke drifting through the blue sky. "I think we found her."

His stomach plunged. He knew she had crashed, but he didn't think it was this bad. One of the many skills Anakin Skywalker had passed to his apprentice-or tried to, at least-was his skills at flying. Usually she crashed safely, and walked away unharmed. She was fine... she had to be fine. The smoke begged to differ from his sentiment. He gripped his handle bar even tighter. She could be hurt or wounded, lying in the wreckage of her burning ship.

Rex fought to get his rearing emotions under control. He nodded at Nail. "Take us down."

The gunship flew toward the light before land gracefully, despite it's enormous size, on the ground. Rex stepped out, near panicked, only to see a distracted padawan looking at something... A flower?

"Commander?" He questioned.

Ahsoka spun around, shoving whatever it was into the little pouch at her side. "Rex!"

He felt a small smile break out form behind his bucket. "How are you, Commander?"

Grief leapt to her lips as she smiled-a tinge sadly-at the captain. "Just living the dream, Rex."

The gray mountain of the resolute greeted their eyes as they flew home, back into battle.

Away from Felucia.

Away from peace.

Away from Art.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fifth Fan-fiction, WHOOOO! Please don't be harsh, constructive criticism is-as always-welcome. I know I have a bunch of comma errors. if you see one, don't feel bad about pointing it out.**

Ahsoka took a long sip of her coffee, sighing with contentment as it slid, warm and soothing, down her throat. She missed days like this. Before she became Anakin's apprentice, before the wars started, she used to have days like this at least once a week.

Sitting in cafe around Dexter's Diner, Ahsoka was staring out at the small but pretty garden nestled against the silver windows of two towering skyscrapers. Ahsoka smiled a tinge sadly at her cup, the worn olive rim a welcome sight in her wary eyes. Leif, Carmela and she used to come here whenever they had finished their studies or had nothing else to do, and talk. Talk and talk and talk, Talk, Talk! Especially Carmela, her orange eyes glittering with whatever "big" news she happened to pick up, be it about a knight, a master, or a mere padawan like themselves. Carlo's Cafe was their safe haven, a place so strange and alien for the three biggest troublemakers to be in that nobody would think to look for them here. And the drinks...

Ahsoka took another sip, letting the taste linger, sweet and flavorful in her mouth. She swallowed.

Their drinks were delicious. Any drinks, ranging from a Spicy Chi to the nutty flavor of a Hazelnut latte, be it the white with almonds Chocolate Mocha or fruity taste of a Jogan fruit smoothie, she couldn't go wrong. Carmela had once dared Leif into getting the maple bacan latte. Ever since then, Leif had got it ever time. Ahsoka sighed, realizing what she truly missed wasn't just this place, theses drinks, and the wonderful view of the gardens, but her friends too, and the time they spent there together. Carmela had died defending a three-year-old Twi'lek from a squadron of battle droids, only to be hit by the unlucky shot of one of her own men, a shiny, aiming for the droid next to her. The rest of her squadron and the child had died in a blaze of red fire. And Leif...

Leif just couldn't take it.

They say he was found dead, handing from a rope attached to a fan in the vent. His tongue was the wrong shade of blue for a Gungan. Ever since then, all vents were bolted and locked on. _Can't have the padawans all killing themselves, now can we!_ She thought sarcastically. _Then we'd have nobody else to toss straight on the killing fields!_

She blinked, suddenly realizing that she was crying. _A Jedi, Crying! In Public!_ She thought scornfully. _Come one Ahsoka, you're better than that._ She wiped away the searing tears on her cheeks. She had already let her friends down by not being there for them, instead being in the war, she wasn't going to let Anakin down by crying too! She wasn't a Jedi, she probably never would be, she was just a stupid screw-up who wasn't there for the one people that she had truly loved and cared about in her childhood.

This didn't help the tears, but she bit her lip, hard, till she had composed herself enough to stop crying.

Ahsoka refocused on the rose sky. The reflection of the sunset on the shimmering glass buildings out the window rippled as the chair next to her creaked. A man sat down, his white wisps of hair tipped with the gold from the light. Wordlessly, he handed her a tissue and another cup of chocolate coffee. Shen nodded at him. Then the pair just sat next to each other, staring at the sun's reflection outside. It was a while before either of them spoke. Ahsoka choose to break the silence first.

"Thank you."

He nodded before responding.

"Do you know what the greatest art in the whole galaxy is?"

She shrugged, and took a sip from her cup.

"People."

Ahsoka turned toward him, now slightly curious.

Everyone, either Sith or Jedi, friend or enemy, happy or sad, no matter what, is a masterpiece, a brilliant piece of art. But unlike most art, the treasure isn't the outside of a person, it is the inside." Carlo, the old man spoke, his voice passionate yet soft.

"Every day you came here with your friends, I watched you show what inside of you. Your happiness, your innocence... it was so beautiful to me. They way you would all laugh, cry, joke smile... it was wonderful. You yourselves were fantastic art, shaped by the hands of God."He paused, "Or the force, as you believe."He smiled as if recalling the memory, but then his grin fell.

"Then your friends died. Brilliant masterpieces, destroyed. You are the only one left out of that original group. You feel sad and alone and afraid, because you don't want to let your master down and the rest of the world down as well. Soon the burden of their deaths will lay heavily on you, and you will start to collapse internally, the outwardly, until you too, are destroyed."

Ahsoka's trembling hands lifted her green cup. The coffee tasted of salt.

"This stupid, stupid war has destroyed almost all art, almost everything wonderful person left in the galaxy. You, Ahsoka, are kind, noble and brave. A masterpiece, just like your friends. Don't let it destroy you too."

She stared at the golden sunset, then tilted her head towards the table they always sat at, and for a moment, in her minds eyes, she could see the blue, translucent force ghosts of her friends, masterpieces, whose colors lived on not only in the force, but int her. Her bottom lip started to tremble. And then she cried.

And cried and cried and cried because they-her friends, those wonderful, kind, amazing masterpieces-deserved to be cried over, and although she was ashamed, although she knew that it was selfish, she cried for herself as well, because being the one left behind _hurt_.

The sun had set long before she finally walked out, eyes red but shining, posture bent and broken yet hopeful. Carlos watched her go.

"Oh, and Ahsoka?" He called. She turned back to look at him. His eyes, softer than melted butter, filled her with a strange sort of happiness."Come again." Ahsoka flashed him an grin before walking out the door.

~(o)~

Six padawans crossed the threshold of Carlo's Cafe, smiling. An old man watched them as they ordered Jogan-fruit smoothies and sat were exactly two force ghosts had hovered just moments before.

It was Katooni's, Byph's, Zatt's, Gungi's and Ganodi's favorite place to go ever since.

Petro still preferred Dex's Diner, but he came-if a little reluctantly-anyway.

Carlo just sat back and watched the cycle restart.

Another Group of Friends.

Another group of Brilliant Masterpieces.

Another survivor to comfort.

Ahsoka's drink was not the only drink that tasted of salt that day.

 **Thank you for reading! :-)**


End file.
